


So Too All Things

by zinjadu



Series: Knight-Errant [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Beginnings, Endings, F/F, F/M, Fear, Friendship, Gen, Hope, Love, M/M, Multi, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: So too all things come to an end.  In a blaze of light, rescued from the darkness, Anakin Skywalker disappeared, and just as suddenly, the war was over.  With loose threads to tie up, our heroes (and a villain or two) have their final fates revealed.  While not everything is tied up neatly with a bow here, life does go on, and people make their own way.The final installment of Knight-Errant.Thank you for reading.





	1. This Bond Which Has Been Divided

Ahsoka wondered who was screaming, and then she realized it was her.  In her mind, there was a broken, ragged thread, a thing that ended in nothing, a nothing where Anakin used to be.  Something was holding her, confining her, and she struggled to be free.

 

“Ahsoka, ‘Soka, you’re alright, it’s just me,” she heard a voice say, human, male, low in her montrals, with an accent she knew well, and a presence that was like the sea.  _Rex_.  Taking in deep breaths, she came back to herself, and was startled to see she was on the floor, Rex holding her firmly, as if he had been trying to keep her from hurting herself.  She shrugged, and he slowly let her go, watching her carefully with his golden eyes.

 

“I’m fine, no, okay, I’m not,” she said quickly at his sharp look.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to find out.”  Head high, she held his gaze with her blue eyes, but he nodded, not countering her choice.  Standing, she wobbled a little, but regained her balance quickly.  She felt weak, oddly weak, and Rex seemed to have to make an effort to stand as well.  They were both drained, and she wasn’t exactly sure why.  A memory that was hers but not flickered across her mind, _blazing light, a sharp cry of defiance, not enough, then a strength there to hand, wide and deep_. 

 

Then she began to actually catalogue what she was seeing, Padme with her babies in her arms, Master Che and Kix still running themselves ragged to save who they could, but no steady stream of newly injured _vod’e_ , and then she felt Ekria’s lament, and the sharp, jagged pain pouring off of Fives.  Caught, caught between finding out what happened to Anakin, for Padme, for his children, and between her men, the men she had been entrusted with.

 

“Go,” Rex said, hand steady on her shoulder in spite of his weariness.  “I can look after my brothers.”  She hesitated a moment, and it was long enough for Padme to notice her.

 

“Ahsoka!  You’re awake!  Please, please tell me you can sense Anakin!” Padme said, looking even more exhausted than Ahsoka felt, her babies cradled to her, their small, bright, beautiful presences enough to take her breath away.  Unable to say what she did sense, she shook her head.

 

“I’m going to go find him.  I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Ahsoka said, putting more faith in her words than she felt.  Padme’s brown eyes hardened as the Senator braced for bad news, and Ahsoka fled.  The sooner she got to Anakin, the better.

 

* * *

 

Rex knelt beside Fives, staying behind while Ahsoka ran ahead, hand on his brother’s shoulder.  Ekria’s hands still tapped over the slicing interface, even as tears streaked down her face.  He had no idea what she was doing, but if she was doing it in the face of Echo’s death, it was likely important.  Fives hunched over his batch-brother’s mutilated body, gently tracing the flesh-and-blood lines of Echo’s face, a face gone slack in death. 

 

“He said… he said he was sorry.  Why?  Why was he sorry?” Fives asked, voice ragged and broken, a man all spun out of hope and sorrow, and somehow on the other side of being able to feel anything.  Shock.  Fives was in shock, and Rex hoped his brother would let him help this time.

 

“Because he was leaving you, Fives,” Rex said as gently as he could.  “He didn’t want to, and he knew it would hurt you.  But he made a choice.  His life, for the lives of our brothers, and the Jedi.”

 

“I would have let them all burn, to have him back,” Fives grit out through a clenched jaw, body going rigid with tension.  Rex rested his forehead against Fives’s temple, and Fives did not pull away.

 

“Would you have let them all burn to take his final choice from him?  After he had so many of his choices taken away?” Rex asked, and Fives froze, like a frightened animal for a moment.  Then his breathing quickened, and he screamed, a scream of loss and rage and hopelessness that cut to the soul. 

 

Rex held his brother, and knew it would not be the last time he would witness something like this.

 

* * *

 

Padme held her children to her, the screams of dying men still all around her, and the scream of a man in mourning cutting through it all.  But her babies did not cry.  They cried when they had been born, out of sheer shock of the new environment, but now they were quiet, watchful.  Leia’s eyes were a deep brown, like Padme’s own, while Luke’s had his father’s bright blue eyes.  She knew that newborns were not supposed to be able to focus on faces, but she could swear they were both looking at her, Luke steady and calm, while Leia seemed ready to challenge the universe.

 

It was looking into their eyes that she knew what she had to do.

 

Ahsoka had said that she would find Anakin, but Padme had trained the young Jedi in how to evade giving direct answers.  It was easy to tell when she was not providing all the information she had.  Master Gallia, may she be one with the Force, had spoken true, that Anakin’s enemies would target his children.  Even if the galaxy returned to peace, which was perhaps a vain hope because she had not been in a position to know what was going on outside the Temple’s walls, there would still be those who would come after the children of a Jedi. 

 

She did not know what awaited her, or her children, and she knew what had to be done to keep them safe, until they were older and could face the galaxy on their own terms.  Gritting her teeth, she carefully shifted the twins, placing them down on the bed.  They were well swaddled, and they seemed content to be away from her.  Perhaps as long as they had each other, they would be alright.

 

On bare feet, the tiled floor shockingly cold, she staggered out of her bed, dragging herself to a nearby comm terminal and input her Senate codes.  Master Che or Kix would notice her out of bed, sooner rather than later, so she had only time for a quick, coded message, but it would be enough.  If it turned out that Anakin lived, then she could reverse the order easily enough, but if not, then she would let it stand, and must learn to live with what she had done.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka found Obi-Wan on the steps of the Temple, head in his hands, the smell of stale vomit in the air.  Whatever had hit her, had hit Obi-Wan harder, it seemed.  At her approach, he looked up at her, his blue eyes wild with the knowledge they shared.  The certainty countered by the mad hope that it couldn’t be true.  But he collected himself quickly and turned to his Commander.

 

“Cody, do your best for your brothers.  They will need much in the days to come,” he said, and Cody nodded.

 

“Rex should be able to help you,” Ahsoka supplied, drawing even with the men, “he’s down in the Halls of Healing.”

 

“I’ll get him up here, if Kix clears him,” Cody promised, and without a backward glance, she and Obi-Wan moved around the knots of _vod’e_ trying to hold themselves together.  The frayed nerves and incipient horror they all felt grated on her Force senses, but she blocked it out.  She had to, and when they cleared the Temple plaza, their path to the Executive Building was clear.

 

It was where they had last sensed Anakin, and by wordless agreement it was where they went.

 

The massive, blocky building loomed before them, and the whole place stank with the Dark side, though there was an undercurrent of Light that threaded through it all.  Breathing out sharply, trying to rid her nose of a scent that was only in her mind, she and Obi-Wan strode through the doors together.  Then she did smell something for real, blood.  In the main lobby, she saw a blood stain spreading on the red carpet-runner, and she could smell charred blood all around her. 

 

Flesh cut through by lightsabers smelled like that.

 

Bounding up the stairs, keeping pace with the Jedi Master, she saw three sets of robes slumped to the floor.  Two human sized and black, one small and brown.  Unable to move her feet, she watched as Obi-Wan walked forward slowly and knelt by the robes, fingers carefully turning over the fabric, investigating what was left behind.

 

Then she heard it, a low, pained groan, just on the edge of her hearing, and she looked up, seeing a huddled figure against the far wall.

 

A figure steeped in the Dark.

 

She rushed the Sith, short yellow blade at the ready as she hauled up Count Dooku by his shirt front.  Teeth bared in a snarl, she dimly registered that his eyes were unfocused, hazy from pain and trauma, but she solved that problem by holding her blade up to his eyes.  He focused on that pretty quickly, but still held his arrogant composure. 

 

“What the _kriffing hell_ happened here?” she demanded, and she saw Dooku about to give her a disdainful reply when Obi-Wan stepped up beside her and whatever expression was on his face, it likely matched the durasteel resolve she felt emanating from him.

 

“We fought.  We all fought, and the boy, Skywalker, hm,” Dooku paused, gathering himself, and Ahsoka let him go.  He slumped back to the ground, and she let her saber power down.  But she still watched him like a hawk.  “Skywalker switched sides.  Ha.  Sidious had Skywalker’s woman’s lifeforce bound to his own, and he used that like a bludgeon.  I was thrown against this wall, and knew nothing else until just now.”

 

“That is incredibly convenient,” Obi-Wan said sharply, and with more patience than Ahsoka knew she would be able to muster. 

 

“Very,” she grit out, hands clenching into fists.

 

“Believe me or not, _Jedi_ , but I came here to destroy my Dark Master.  If Asajj Ventress lives, she can tell you as much,” Dooku said, and smiled at Obi-Wan’s burst of surprise.  “Oh yes, she was with me in the end, Kenobi.  It is her you have to thank for holding back the tide of Skywalker’s desperation.”

 

“Then how did it end?” Obi-Wan asked tersely.  “There are three sets of robes lying on the floor over there, as if they have simply vanished.  More, one set of those robes looks like it belongs to Master Yoda.  How is any of that possible?”

 

Dooku gave Obi-Wan a long, level look, and then hauled himself up carefully, using the wall to brace himself.  Then he staggered forward, and Ahsoka felt no impulse to help him on his way.  Slowly, he approached what Ahsoka refused to think of as the remnants of Anakin Skywalker.  Kneeling heavily, Dooku touched each robe briefly, and then let out a low grunt of surprise.

 

“Well, it seems they have all been sent or taken directly by the Force itself,” Dooku said.

 

“How is that possible?” Ahsoka asked, looking to Obi-Wan, who could only shake his head and shrug, loss settling in his eyes.  He was accepting this, she realized suddenly, accepting Anakin’s disappearance.  Even Master Yoda’s disappearance.  It couldn’t be, she wanted to yell at him, that he should have a little more faith.  But she refrained, wondering if her own faith was nothing more than wishful thinking.

 

“We need to secure the building, and _him_ ,” Obi-Wan said, tilting his head at the exhausted and injured Dooku.  “And if we can, find Asajj.  We will assemble a full picture of what happened here, Ahsoka, I promise.”

 

“Yes, yes we will.  One way, or another,” she said, blue eyes narrowing as she glared at the back of Dooku’s head.  The ragged bond had begun to ache, to hurt in ways she hadn’t known she could hurt, and it twisted in her mind.  But it was more than what had happened to Anakin that was to drive her now: it was understanding what had happened _to her_.

 

* * *

 

Cody had been overwhelmed by their brothers, Rex had seen as soon as he had come up from the Halls of Healing.  Though the Marshal Commander had been at Umbara, too, Rex had been in the thick of it a way Cody hadn’t been.  Cody had also not had Ahsoka Tano there to teach him how to process something like that, how to find a way through the guilt and grief and horror, all of it directed inwards, and no one to fight to help make those feelings go away.

 

Walking from huddle group of _vod’e_ to huddle group, Rex spoke in low tones, telling them over and over that it wasn’t their fault, that they had been used.  They knew that, they knew what they had always been, toy soldiers, wound up and released on the orders of others to fight and die, but this, this had been a violation.  But that they were still _men_.  Men who could still learn to make choices.  They didn’t seem to believe him, not exactly, but they clung to his words all the same, holding them tight, a talisman against what they had done and what had been done to them. 

 

It was then that Rex knew what work was in store for him, if the galaxy was at peace.  His brothers needed him.  They saw the armor, the tally, and the 332nd orange, the jaig eyes on his bucket, the bucket he wore clipped to his belt right now so he could look at his brothers in their eyes, and they _believed_.  They believed because he was Commander Rex, survivor of everything this damned war had thrown at him.

 

And now the war had thrown at the _vod’e_ a betrayal so deep it was literally a part of them.

 

But as he walked and talked, he heard a refrain again and again, an echo: _we are men, we are men, we are men_.  Rex knew who he had to thank for that, and he vowed to his fallen brother that he would be remembered as the one who had saved them all.

 

* * *

 

Mace Windu leaned heavily on Asajj Ventress as they stumbled back into the Temple, her odd Nightsister abilities affording him some measure of healing, though not enough to restore him fully.  It had taken some time, but now the Temple was a nexus of activity.  Younglings had returned, with Padawan Zonder and Senator Chuchi prodding a cadre of _vod’e_ in front of them, men who fell to their knees at the sight of their other brothers huddled together, seeking what comfort could be found after such a profound hurt.  Mace knew he could not blame the men, they were the tools of another’s will, but that did not soothe the uneasiness other Jedi felt upon seeing the troopers.

 

He had received reports from all corners, the former Sith assassin apparently unperturbed to be conscripted as his effective aide-de-camp.  His hands might have been removed, but his mind still worked.  From across the galaxy, he saw the numbers, the tally, the Jedi dead at the hands of _vod’e_ they had not been able to save.  Among them were friends he had known for decades, and then came the news from Obi-Wan: Master Yoda had returned to the planet, returned and fallen in the final confrontation.  Kenobi and Tano were still investigating the area, and bringing an apparently alive Dooku in for questioning, but the fact was unavoidable: Anakin Skywalker and Sheev Palpatine had disappeared, along with the being that had guided the Jedi Order for centuries.

 

The loss of Yoda nearly made Mace falter, give in to the weariness that seemed to have sunk into his bones, but he knew what needed to be done. 

 

The politics would sort themselves out.  Bail Organa was back, and many Senators had survived.  They would negotiate and fight between them.  It was time for the Jedi to find their true purpose again, not as a pillar of the Republic, but as servants of the Force itself. 

 

“What would you do, Lady Ventress, were it you?” he asked idly, and her grey eyes evaluated him, her face giving nothing away.

 

“I would not wait around for the galaxy to decide that this was a mess of my own making,” she said finally, and he was no longer surprised when he found that his thoughts turned in a similar direction.

 

“You did well,” he said absently.  “With the vaapad.”  She smiled, a sharp, cutting thing, like knives held low, at the ready, and not without a measure of pride.

 

“Perhaps when you are recovered, Jedi,” she said, still putting that little twist on the word, though it was more habit now than anything else, Mace suspected, “I can better show you how well I learned.”

 

Mace Windu regarded her with dark eyes, and knew she was, in her own way, trying to help him through the loss he had not yet fully processed.  A strange species of kindness.  He returned her smile, though only barely, his weariness in his bones now. 

 

“I look forward to it, Lady Ventress,” he replied, then drew in a breath.  “But now, there are necessary orders to issue and arrangements to make.  If you are content to continue to aid me in this, I would appreciate it.”

 

“The compulsion Dooku laid on me is gone,” she said simply, eyes bright, sharp.  “I can go where I will.  And for now, I shall stay.”

 

“Then you have my thanks.  First, we must issue a recall order.  All Jedi are to return to Coruscant immediately, and all clones are to make ready to leave on our orders.  _All_ clones, even the ones at Kamino.  It is time to set some things to rights,” Mace said, eyes narrowing, and he dictated orders as Ventress tapped them out on the datapad. 

 

The chaos that swirled around them all now was vast, daunting, but he would see the Jedi through it.  It was his duty now, and he would not fail, even if it meant going against centuries of tradition.  Now was not the time to hold to the very ways that had nearly sent them to ruin, and had cost them so many.


	2. Reverted Once Again

The Jedi returned to Coruscant.

 

In part, they returned to give over their dead to the Force, and also to see what had become known as The Clone Wars finally end.  The Republic, led by Bail Organa negotiated with the Confederacy of Independent Systems, led by Count Dooku, and the Neutral Planets, represented by Korkie Kryze in deference to Mandalore’s current stability and strength.  Those outside the Order did not know what role the Jedi played, but there was mistrust on all sides.  The galaxy had nearly burned in an inferno, and the Jedi had been a visible and blamable part of it.

 

Padme Amidala watched the flow of traffic around the Temple from her apartments, her minimal staff returned to her under the thoughtful care of Captain Typho, though she keenly felt the lack of Sabe and Dorme.  Her mind shied away from the other lacks in her life now.  The empty belly, where no hearts beat now, the empty arms that held no small bodies.  And Anakin, gone from them all, not even a body left behind.

 

She had only understood one unalterable fact when Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had spoken to her: Anakin was gone, and they had no idea how or why. 

 

So much for vaunted Jedi wisdom.

 

The door chimed, and she did not turn around as it opened.

 

“Senators Organa, Mothma, and Chuchi, my Lady,” Captain Typho said, his voice as calm and even as ever.  Only in quiet moments did he watch her with cautious, worried eyes that he tried to hide from her.  She did not acknowledge it, his concern, instead throwing herself back into the work she could do.

 

“Thank you Captain,” she said, still tired from her labors, but bearing up as if it had never happened.  It was better that way, and her friends had respected her wishes in that.

 

Breha Organa, Queen of Alderaan, might have something to say about it, but her friend now had the children she and Bail had longed for.  They might not have them forever.  Surely the Jedi would take them away at some point, as they always had done, but they would not be torn from her arms, and they would not bear the name _Skywalker_ as an indelible mark. 

 

“The Jedi have put a proposal to us, about the army, the troopers specifically,” Riyo said, taking charge in a way that would have been unusual for the young Pantoran.  Would have been unusual, before she had helped protect Jedi younglings in advance of lobotomized clone troopers, and lost Lux Bonteri and Master Sinube in the process.  Now her eyes always seemed to be looking down the scope of a rifle, trying to see the dangers ahead and clear the way.

 

“I think it’s a good one, though we’re going to have to work hard to sell it to the rest of the Senate,” Bail said.  Though he was tired, her old friend was slated to be elected Chancellor, to fill the void of executive power in the wake of the mess Palpatine, no, Darth Sidious, had left them all.  His assumed Sith name was known now, released by the official investigators into what had exactly happened that night.  They had found artefacts, many declared dangerous in the extreme by Master Windu, and taken to the Temple for safe-keeping.  Few dared to counter the action, even with sentiment against the Jedi, even with Mace Windu still crippled from the fight, the fight with _her_ husband, if Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were to be believed.  It helped that at his side was Asajj Ventress, her sharp grey eyes a constant challenge that spoke eloquently of how ill-advised it would be to cross her.

 

“When is that not the case?” Padme asked, taking a seat on the low couch, and the others joined her.  “I cannot see how I will be helpful.  I had thought that I would be mistrusted, after everything that followed on the last motion I brought to the floor.”

 

“You are,” Mon said bluntly, and then grimaced.  “That’s why we’re here.  With all the revelations about Pal—Darth Sidious, there have been mutterings.  You might want to retire from the Senate, Padme, while you can.”  While the words were bald, bare, Mon’s expression was sympathetic.  “I hate telling you this, but it’s true, and I’d never lie to you, not you, even if it’s not what you want to hear.”

 

“No, Mon, you’re right… I… thank you, for telling me the truth.  I cannot say I am surprised,” Padme said, internally screaming.  Another thing, taken away from her.  What could she do?  Go back to Naboo?  There were too many memories there, in her family home, around her planet, where Anakin lingered in her mind.  Discussion turned, then, to what she could do, and she knew they already had something in mind.  It was decided quickly, she would be a Relief Ambassador, tasked with directly overseeing the provision of aid to those most affected by the war.  After that, she would see, but she had work, and that would have to be enough for her.

 

What else did she have left?

 

“Bail,” she said, just before her mentor and dear friend left.  He held back, and she could not escape the echo of their previous conversation.

 

_“They aren’t safe here, Bail!” she had yelled at him, all but forcing him to take the twins, not wanting an argument, not wanting to draw it out._

_“Padme, listen, this is the grief talking, in time you will…” he had tried to reason with her.  But she was not beyond reason.  She was thinking clearly, and if her children were to live, they could not live with the name Skywalker.  Records could be altered, and there were many orphans of war.  The famous generosity of Breha and Bail would explain such a sudden adoption._

_“No, there is no ‘in time.’  I was selfish for far too long, and so was he.  This… this I can do_ for _them.  Not for myself.  Go Bail, get them to Alderaan, and let Breha know… let her know, well, she will know,” Padme finished lamely, and fled.  Later, when Ahsoka found her, bereft of the twins, the young woman had not known how to react.  Obi-Wan had merely laid a hand on Padme’s shoulder and grieved with her, but Ahsoka had stormed away, mad that the last of her former Master had been taken away from her, too._

“Thank you,” she said simply.  He nodded, eyes clouded with tears and voice choked to silence.  He left, and Padme summoned her Captain once more.  “It seems I am to be a Relief Ambassador.  I would understand if you wished to transfer to whomever Naboo chooses to have fill my post.”

 

“My Lady,” he said, facing her, back straight, dark eyes regarding her with a respect she was not sure she deserved.  “You will be going into dangerous territory, and will need a security detail.  Besides, do you truly wish to train a new guard Captain?”

 

In spite of herself and the grief and pain that sat in her heart like a shard of durasteel, the question made her smile.

 

“No, Captain, you were difficult enough,” she replied and took the first step toward finding a new life for herself.

 

* * *

 

The war had ended in a single, mad moment, and Tai didn’t know what to do with herself.  She was without a Master, again, the bond neatly severed this time at least, and the Wolfpack circling around her like a protective shield.  It was enough to drive her crazy, all that suffocating protection.  Worse, Coruscant felt so different now, to her senses, no place moreso than the Temple.  The place felt twisted up and bloody, both things she should have expected, but also like it was waiting for something.  Waiting to become something else, and it made her teeth buzz, that sense of anticipation.

 

Sneaking away from Wolffe and other brothers was difficult, so instead she promised to stay on Temple grounds, finally able to argue them down to letting her go meditate by herself.  First, she tried to find Ahsoka, but her friend was caught up by the hastily reformed Council, asking her questions over and over about what she had experienced during the fight.  Something about the questioning was strange, but Tai knew she didn’t have any hope of finding out what was going on.

 

And no one to tell her.

 

Then she thought to try to find Ekria, but she was tasked with going over every inch of the now exposed clone-trooper-chip-network.  The goal was to dismantle it entirely, rendering the _vod’e_ safe from further tampering without destroying their brains in the process.  It was slow going.

 

Zonder was Tai’s next hope, but he had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on the younglings, and Tai didn’t want to be around so many little ones.  They set her nerves on edge right now, so she left him be as well.

 

“Tai Uzuma?” a trooper asked, and she turned, glaring at the man.  He was younger than most of the ones she knew, and something about him was familiar.  Then it hit her, this was Master Tii’s trooper.  Hook.  While he was a clone, and therefore looked like all his brothers, there was something different about his eyes, but she couldn’t quite place it.

 

“That’s me.  What is it?” she returned, not wary, not cautious, but if Hook was here, that meant one thing.

 

“Master Tii wants to know if you would like to talk to her,” he said, and that was not the phrasing she was expecting.  With a shrug, she followed the trooper and was shown to Master Tii’s rooms.  The Togruta Master perched on a chair when Tai entered, but stood and took Tai’s dark brown hands in her burnt-orange, gripping tightly.  In that instant, it all came crashing back to Tai, losing Master Plo, watching his fighter burn and explode, wanting to rage and hurt, but overcoming it because she _had to_ , and because Wolffe needed her to.

 

Lip trembling, she tried to hold on, but looking in Master Tii’s eyes, she saw there was no point.  A Jedi Master, a woman who was known for her serene countenance, was crying.  That meant Tai could cry, too, and she did, burying her face against Tii.  Strong arms held her close and gentle hands wiped away her tears.  After the storm passed, Tii offered her something to drink, but she shook her head, sitting hunched over on a chair.  Tii held Tai’s hands in her own still, and her blue eyes drew Tai in, making her maintain contact.

 

“You have been weathered much loss, Tai Uzuma,” Shaak Tii said, choosing her words carefully.  “Your recent loss is one we share, as Plo and I were dear friends for many years.  Out of that friendship, and for you, I make this offer.  I would take up your apprenticeship, if you wished it, though… my own record is as dubious as yours, my dear.”

 

Tai remembered that Shaak Tii had taken two apprentices before, and both had died not long after being Knighted.  But then, Tai had lost two Masters even before she was sixteen.

 

“I don’t come alone,” Tai warned her, and Shaak Tii smiled.

 

“Neither do I, at least not anymore.  Hook shall be with me, and your Wolfpack shall be with you.  An odd situation, but hardly the strangest that exists now among us,” Master Tii said.  “Regardless of the oddities, however, I think that together we might find exactly what we need.  All of us.”

 

Tai wasn’t sure what to say to that, but instead lifted one black eyebrow.  If Shaak  Tii was to be her master, she wasn’t going to stop being herself.  Master Plo had encouraged her in some things, and her questioning, challenging nature was one of them.

 

“Absolution,” Shaak Tii answered the unspoken question, and Tai gripped the Togruta’s hands tightly.

 

“Then… I accept… Master Tii,” Tai said, the hesitation something she couldn’t avoid, but she thought Master Plo might just be proud of her for this.

 

* * *

 

Ekria ran to the docking bay, her blue hair flying behind her.  Only one thing could have moved her from the computer terminal where she had sat for days, tracing the last vestiges of Echo.  Fives had taken charge of his brother’s body, seeing him to his last rest with his brothers, but Ekria had kept working.  Trying to find Echo in the network somewhere, but all she found was his ghost, _we are men, we are men_ , over and over, suppressing the signal that had compelled the _vod’e_ to follow that fateful order.

 

She had always been good at finding things, particularly in networks, but she thought this time she might be looking for something that was already gone.

 

Watching with avid eyes, she began to breathe easier when Aayla stepped off the small shuttle, Bly and Kit just behind her.  Not caring that it was against all decorum or protocol, Ekria ran to her Master and hugged her.  Aayla’s strong arms wrapped around Ekria’s narrow shoulders, and the older woman stroked her hair gently.

 

“You’re here, you’re okay, I knew you were okay, but you’re _here_ , and… and…” Ekria stumbled over her words, tears running down her face again.  Again.  Too many tears.  Aayla tipped Ekria’s head back and calmly wiped away her tears.

 

“I am, I am well.  We all are,” Aayla said, all assurance and confidence. 

 

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t express so much, feel like this, but,” Ekria trailed off again, her words insufficient to express what she felt.  Aayla looked to Bly, then to Kit, and Ekria watched as her Master’s eyes lit with a spark of determination.

 

“You have been through so much, my Padawan,” Aayla said, steel in her voice.  “And you feel what you feel.  You should not hide it, you should not fear being seen to feel.  You must express it, accept it, and processes it, not pretend you are without a heart, without worries and fears.  Such lies weaken us.  No, no you are not wrong for how you feel, Ekria.  Some things must change, and they will.  I promise you.”

 

That was when Ekria took closer notice of how Bly and Kit were standing, how close they all were to each other.  She glanced at Bly, then Kit, and realized that they were hiding exactly nothing.

 

“Master, how much trouble are you going to be in?” Ekira asked, and then Bly laughed.  Aayla shot him a quelling look, only for Kit to let out a small chuckle.  Aayla sighed.

 

“The amount of trouble depends on how much the Council wants to heap upon us at this time.  I believe they are otherwise occupied.  For now, Ekira, I wish to know what you have been doing at the Temple,” Aayla said, taking a step back, but keeping hold of Ekria’s hands.  “I believe I might just have you to thank for my life.”

 

“No, I didn’t do it by myself,” Ekria protested, her part in Echo’s death, in his sacrifice, was not something she could bring herself to be proud of, no matter how many people it saved.

 

“No, nothing worthwhile is ever done alone,” Aayla said, and Ekria knew what her Master meant.

 

* * *

 

Zonder knelt, his Master standing next to him, hand on his furred shoulder.  There had been a break in the Council’s deliberations.  The Jedi order had only been recalled five days previous, and they had been scrambling, making preparations.  For what, exactly, Zonder had several guesses, but now they were making their decisions known.

 

Looking around the Council chambers, the collection of beings here had changed markedly.  Grandmaster Yoda’s chair sat empty, no one willing to claim it, but Master Windu led the way for the moment, Asajj Ventress at his side, acting his aide while new mechanical hands were fabricated for the man.  The rumor was that Master Windu had allowed all others to be seen to before him, hence his need for current assistance.  Masters Kenobi, Tii, and Fisto were all still on the Council, but that was the last of the old guard.  Tiin had died in the space battle, while Koth and Rancsis had been killed fighting the Sith directly.  Masters Mundi and Kacj had died, killed by troopers before their Commanders could save him, as had Master Plo.  Master Adi Gallia had died saving a majority of Senators, and her actions were at least one bulwark against the ill will that the Jedi had garnered.

 

Instead of those old faces, Stass Allie stood in for her cousin, and Depa Billaba had resumed her seat while Vokara Che had been recently taken up a position, if only to round out the number a little more.  Last of all, Luminara Unduli sat on the Council now, having arrived only late last night with a surprise in tow.  Barriss Offee had stood at her former Master’s side, head held high, and to Zonder’s senses no longer mired in whatever darkness she had lost herself in for a time.

 

That had been a strange turn, but not an unwelcome one.  Though their reunion could wait.  For now, Zonder listened to what was being asked of him.

 

“Do you agree with this assessment, Zonder?  You have faced many trials, and shown wisdom and courage both, and without you this Order would have been lost.  You saved that which is most important, our most precious charges, the initiates and younglings in our care.  Will you accept the offer this Council has made to you?” Mace Windu asked, dark eyes unreadable, but Zonder thought he detected a hint of pride there.  He risked a sideways glance up at Kit, sensing much more than a hint of pride.  Kit smiled at him, that bright, cheerful smile that had been all too rare of late.  At least there was a reason to smile today, in spite of the grief that still shadowed them all.

 

“Yes, I accept,” he said, and with a hum, Kit cut off his Padawan braid.

 

“Then rise, Knight-Errant Zonder, and welcome,” Master Windu said, and Zonder rose to his hind legs, towering over every other being in the room, and bowed his head respectfully.

 

“I am honored, Masters, to be chosen for that rank, and I will continue to serve this Order to the best of my ability,” he promised, and Kit let out a sharp _ha_ of amusement. 

 

“Ah, Zonder, you are the best of what we should be, so do not doubt, my friend, you will not be found wanting,” Kit said, and that was when Zonder noticed Kit had nearly said _my Padawan_ instead of _my friend_ , but it felt right, all the same.

 

Knight-Errant Zonder bowed again, his tail sweeping down low behind him, and he left the Council chambers.  Whatever the outcome of the more secret Council sessions, Zonder knew where he would be.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t suppose I will actually get an explanation out of you, will I?” Kenobi asked as he left the Council chambers, Asajj keeping pace with him after Mace had called their final meeting to a close.  All had been decided, and Kenobi was to liaise with Bail to ensure the final touches were shepherded through the Senate.

 

“Do you require one?” she shot back, her brow arched and tone as dry as a desert world.  Then she shook herself, breathing out sharply, knowing the barbs were unworthy of her now, especially directed towards him.  She could feel his pain, his loss echoing through him underneath the dedication to duty, and though she had never personally cared for the boy, she saw what his loss was doing to Kenobi.  “Perhaps, Kenobi, you are owed one, however.” 

 

He gestured for her to lead the way, and she did, having learned the Temple well in her fleeing time within the walls around them now.  She took them down to one of the salles, often standing empty, no having the stomach to train in saber combat at the moment.  Most Jedi meditated, taught younglings, or took care of the still struggling _vod’e_ when not preparing for their next move.  She shrugged out of her black robe, hanging it up, and he followed suit with his brown robe.  Igniting her sabers, they were still red, but they did not resonate with her as they used to. 

 

She was changing.  They were all changing, and it was not an unwelcome thing.  Not anymore.

 

Kenobi drew his saber, and he held the blue beam of light low, waiting for her to make the first move, as she often did.  Instead, she circled him carefully, watching for her moment.

 

“I was captured on Serenno,” she said, her voice holding no recrimination, no remorse.  These were simply things that happened, and she had walked into that place knowing what could happen.  It was only that she had found a new place to stand that had saved her in the face of Dooku’s anger and unwillingness to see how he had been used.  As she had once been used.  “But I was able to deliver the message Yoda wanted, to have Dooku meet him.  They did meet, and they formed a plan, after a fashion.  I was to smuggle Dooku onto Coruscant, and Yoda left to study some deeper mysteries.  He said he would return when he was needed.”

 

She waved a hand dismissing that line of thought as it was unknowable.  The old creature had parted ways from them quickly, with only a bare promise to return when the time was right.  Dooku might know more, but she was not inclined to speak to him ever again if she could avoid it.  The man had been allowed to leave, to remain free, to spur negotiations and return the galaxy to peace, on the condition that Dooku remain on Serenno for the rest of his life. 

 

Though it galled Asajj to watch it happen, she knew why Dooku agreed to such an arrangement.   The Sith that had been ultimately responsible for his truest apprentice’s death finally destroyed, Dooku had lost most of the fight that had burned in him.  That and the Jedi had declined to include him in their plans, for which she was grateful.  And that she had been included, even if it was only because she had returned Mace Windu to the Jedi Temple.  At first she had stayed because it seemed prudent, but then when Windu made his plans for the troopers known to her, she had found a reason to remain.  To see slaves freed, it was always something she cared to observe, for want of a better word.

 

Regardless, it was a strange galaxy where she was a part of something rather than apart.

 

“Mace said you had a compulsion on you,” Obi-Wan said, circling her in turn, the hum of their blades low in her ears.  “I assume Dooku did that.”

 

“It is gone now, and I am here of my own accord,” she said, inclining her head, as proud as ever, but not shadowed as she once had been.  Then Kenobi smiled in open approval, and for a moment his sorrow receded and he felt _bright_ , as he once had.  That display made her twist her lips in a sneer, but it held no real animosity behind it.  She had reverted, to some degree, in her outward mannerisms in having to serve her old Master again, however tenuously, but she was determined to not let that be all she was.  Not again. 

 

“I am no Jedi,” she told him, and her lips lost their hard edge, and her grey eyes danced.  “But I am no Sith, either.  I believe I have you to thank for that, Obi-Wan.”

 

“No, Asajj, you have yourself to thank, not I,” he said, blue eyes thoughtful, and her eyes went wide.  She was used to Jedi claiming it was the will of the Force, or their own towering insight that had guided others to where they needed to go.  While Kenobi might have given her some direction, she had walked her own path in her own way, and he saw that.  He understood  He would, she supposed, .  Then her grin became sharp, as sharp as knives.

 

“Well, are we going to spar, Kenobi, or are you just going to keep a lady waiting?” she asked, dropping into a crouch.

 

“How terribly rude of me,” he replied, and stood ready.  When blades clashed, it was not hate or anger or fear that fueled her, nor was it anything so saccharine as hope and light.  It was knowing that she was, finally, fully, herself.

 

* * *

 

Barriss had vowed to never return to Coruscant, and yet here she was.  Luminara had received the recall order, and Barriss had been faced with a choice.  She could refuse to go back, but the ship was a small one, and she was not certain she could overpower the Wookie that had flown them away from Kashyyyk.  They were too strong in close quarters, and besides, she had enough death and pain to last her lifetimes.  There was no need to add to it.

 

So she had returned, and this time kept to Luminara’s shadow.  Her old Master seemed as calm as ever, after their admittedly emotional reunion, and she had taken up Council duties without missing a beat.  That left Barriss at odd ends.

 

Zonder had been raised to Knight-Errant, and he had found her quickly.  They had spoken, briefly, but she had not lingered.  She could see how the other Jedi looked at her.  The Jedi could find sympathy for the troopers that had tried to kill them only days ago, but for her they kept her at a distance.  However, she could heal again, and reporting to Master Che had been easier than she had thought possible.

 

The iron willed Twi’lek had taken one look at her, nodded as if satisfied, and then began giving imperious commands about how to treat troopers and Jedi, injured in all sorts of ways by the end of the war.  It kept her busy while she contemplated what she truly wished to do.

 

Speak to Ahsoka.

 

They had not parted well on Nar Shadda, and not long ago.  Perhaps, perhaps her newfound and precarious balance could be the thing that would let Ahsoka try again.  Ahsoka always tried, always reached out.  Barriss was counting on it now.

 

She found the first Knight-Errant of the Jedi Order lingering outside the lift to the Council chambers, her Commander at her side.  That was not an unusual sight, they had been close for years.  What was unusual was that the trooper held Ahsoka’s arm gently, lightly, not claiming her, exactly, but it was a clear sign of affection deeper than that between fellow soldiers and friends.  It made Barriss hang back, unsure where she could fit in to Ahsoka’s life.

 

Or even if she should.

 

Then Ahsoka’s head turned, sensing Barriss’s presence, and the she did not turn her gaze away.  Taking that as not a dismissal, Barriss approached.  The trooper, Ahsoka’s Commander, went from man at ease to hunting hound in moments, ready to pounce at his mistress’s command.  His sharp, golden eyes focused on Barriss, his expression blank, but something fierce and protective burned in him.

 

“They said you were back.  Thought you’d said you’d avoid this place.  Next thing we know, a little family’s going to show up,” Ahsoka said with a forced grin, referring to Etain and clone trooper husband and son, likely still on Nar Shadda.  It was doubtful Kal Skirata would let them return to the fold, though _let_ was a difficult term to use about Etain.

 

“I… I could not return as I was.  I have… recovered a part of myself I thought lost.  I had hoped…” she trailed off, not sure what she had hoped.  She had loved Ahsoka once, and she thought Ahsoka had loved her.  Maybe they had, maybe they hadn’t.  But that was broken now, and Barriss had been the one to break it beyond fixing.  Though perhaps they could have something new.  Barriss thought she might like that.  “I hoped that you might have been able to find a way to forgive me.”

 

Ahsoka blinked, taken aback.  She looked up to her Commander, and they shared a silent moment of communication.  It was not the Force that they shared, but years and months and days, hours and minutes, dirt and blood and heartache and a million other things that gave meaning to the twitch of a brow or the quirk of lips.  The Commander shifted, something decided between them that he didn’t care for but couldn’t object to, and Ahsoka regarded Barriss once more.

 

“Not yet, but… I’ve been working on it.  To be honest with you, more for myself than for you, and I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends again, but… thank you, for asking.  And maybe, who knows?  Just… ask me again later,” she said, then sighed.  “And now, I have to go give my report.  Again.  I swear, Rex, I’m just going to take off if they don’t give me the go ahead soon.”

 

“So you’ve said, Ahsoka,” the Commander said quietly, and Barriss saw in him a sliver of regret, then.  Something he could see coming but could not stop.  “Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll be here.”

 

“Of course,” she said brightly, entering the lift with a little wave for her Commander.  Then she made the effort of giving Barriss a tight smile, not certain that she was doing the right thing, but trying.  Not for herself, but for Barriss’s sake now.  And that was Ahsoka Tano to the ground: always trying, always striving, never giving up.

 

Barriss walked away quickly, knowing that Ahsoka’s Commander did not relish her presence, but she thought that perhaps this was a true new beginning, and she could find herself again.

 

It was not what she had expected, returning to Coruscant, but it might be what she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, its not all an easy ending for everyone.


	3. Through the Goodness in Them

Mace Windu sat in his seat in the Council chambers, though the remnants and pieced together Jedi Council were not present.  Instead, in those seats, sat the most prominent Commanders among the _vod’e_.  Men who had weathered too many storms, who were among the oldest of their kind, and perhaps the few who could be reasonably said to speak for their brothers.  Too many of their kind were gone, and Mace once again keenly felt the loss of Ponds, and he hoped that what he was about to do now would let the soldier rest at last.

 

Keeping his arms folded together, he hid his lack of hands with the sleeves of his robes.  Even with the Silent and all the Healers working, it would be some time before he could be seen to, could be fitted for prostheses.  Vokara had offered to speed up the process, but he had declined.  There were those who needed attention before him, and he was in no danger of death at the moment.  And perhaps, it was an obscure form of penance, this, to be without his hands for a time.  Drawing in a breath, he refocused his mind on the task at hand, looking at each armored man in turn.  Their helmets were at their feet, and each one was marked and unique, as unique as the men themselves.

 

“I know all of you wish to know what will happen to you and your brothers, and to that end, I have some information and an offer,” Mace began, and the men watched him with stoic eyes.  They had spent the past several days helping those men who were nearly destroyed by what they had almost done, and what some of them had done: killing the Jedi, the people they were supposed to protect and serve.  The trauma was one that overwhelmed even _vod’e_ psychology, and it had been thanks to the efforts of these men here that they had not lost more.  These men and the Jedi who were willing to embrace the _vod’e_ as victims of the war, not villains.

 

“We’re listening,” Rex said, Tano’s Commander, a trooper who had worked with more Jedi than most, and who had been rather prominent in the events of the war.  The man’s gold eyes watched him like a hawk, and Mace resisted the urge to smile.  Cagey, even now, these men, wary of what might be done to them now that they had an opportunity to be free.

 

“The information is this: you are free, men in your own right, recognized as such by the Galactic Senate,” Mace said, and rather than burst out with joy, each man went stock still for a moment and then exchanged glances and small gestures with each other.

 

“Banthashit,” Wolffe bit out, his composure frayed for the loss of his Jedi General, though Mace had heard he refused to be parted from Tai, Plo’s former apprentice.

 

“Let him talk, Wolffe,” Bly said, hand on his brother’s arm.  There was a complication, Mace thought.  The Bly, Aayla and Kit, the three of them publicly flouting tradition while Mace tried to move the Jedi through this time.  Mace knew of a few other, less public, things, but those three acted as if they were daring anyone to stop them.  Likely, they were.  But now, Bly was the voice of reason and corralled his brother.

 

“You were technically owned by the Republic, bought from the Kaminoan cloning consortium.  I have used some of the Order’s funds to buy you all from the Republic, and just this morning I have finished authorizing the manumission orders,” he told them, and Mace could feel their shock, their amazement, all of it hidden behind their eyes.

 

“General Windu, sir,” Fox began to speak, leaning forward in his seat, almost desperate.  Rex made a low gesture, however, and Fox sat back.  The Commander of the 332nd exchange a glance with Cody, and then with each of his brothers in turn. 

 

“What’s the offer, then?” Rex asked bluntly, expression intent.

 

“You are free, and while many planets would offer you citizenship, they cannot keep all of you together.  I have… another plan, if you are willing.  There is a planet in the Core, a planet that was traditionally the home of the Jedi Order.  Tython, it is called.  It is my intention that we shall return to that place, and I offer to you the option to come with us.  I do not know what will happen should you accept, save that we can grant you all citizenship once we retake the planet, and then you will be able to live however you wish,” Mace said, and watched them process the idea.  Again, they communicated in glances and sharp, quick flicks of their fingers.

 

“However we wished?” Cody asked, eyebrow raised, his skepticism plain.

 

“Who’s going to make the rules of this place?” Appo put in, frowning.  He had lost Skywalker in spectacular fashion, but he had held the 501st together after it, and though he was the youngest of the Commanders, his care for his men in the aftermath of Order 66 had earned him the respect of his brothers.

 

“Yeah, if it’s just the Jedi making rules for us, how free are really?” Gree added, and Mace saw what they were doing.  They were voicing their concerns for his benefit.  Shifting, he was about to speak when Rex beat him to it.

 

“Joint council of Jedi and _vod’e_ ,” Rex said firmly, no room for argument in his tone.  Even other Jedi were cautious of making demands of Mace Windu, but this trooper didn’t balk.  “We’ll elect our own people, and any decision that will affect everyone has to be cleared through both groups.  That’s democracy isn’t it?  That’s the ideal we defended, so I think we should have it for ourselves.”

 

“I think you should, too,” Mace agreed without any hesitation, and he held Rex’s eyes for a moment.  Then a grin flashed across Rex’s face, and the faces of all the men present.  They were not radiant grins, though there was a measure of satisfaction present, rather they were tight, sharp grins that told Mace that these men would believe something when they saw it.

 

He could hardly blame them.

 

“Then we agree,” Rex said, standing, his helmet tucked under his arm.  His brothers followed suit, but before they left, they each ducked their heads to Mace, hand over heart.

 

“That is not necessary,” Mace said, the gesture more than he thought he or any Jedi worthy of, for how these men had been used.

 

“Just the once, Master Windu,” Cody said, holding his head high.

 

“We won’t lie, there’s some resentment among our brothers,” Bly told him.

 

“No kidding, _vod?_   Ah, but some things run deep, don’t they?” Wolffe asked, his single grey eye glinting in the soft light.

 

“But we know a good deal when we see one,” Gree spoke softly, and Appo nodded.

 

“Not like anyone else would take the lot of us all together,” Appo said.

 

“Especially not after our… vulnerability was made known,” Fox said softly with a grimace, still likely recalling his part in the near-destruction of the Temple.  That had been a bitter thing, what had happened to Fox, how they had not been able to help the Security Forces. 

 

“We are our own,” Rex said looking at Mace, a man who should have never been a Commander having the final word.  “But we will stand next to the Jedi.  Not behind, but with.  There’s a difference to that, and it matters.”

 

“That it does… Rex,” Mace said, using the man’s name, not his title or his number, but the name he had earned and taken for himself.  “That it does.”

 

* * *

 

Kix held his head in his hands, unsure he was believing what he was hearing.  The announcement had gone out, and every _vod’e_ was taking it differently.  They were free, _free_ , and they were going to be citizens of this new planet the Jedi were headed to.  He had no idea how to process this.  It was too big, too much, to suddenly have a life of his own stretching ahead of him, not having to patch up his brothers, or fail to do so and not even be able to hold them as they died because there was always someone else who needed him.

 

“Kix!  What’re you doing in here?  It’s a party out there.  Not much of party to be honest, gotta keep it down for all the Coruscant natives that are upset, but,” Jesse said, sliding into the small room Kix had hidden in.  Then Jesse took in what he was seeing, Kix hunched over, tears escaping down his chin from underneath the hands that covered his face.  

 

“Stars, Kix, hey, Kix,” Jesse whispered, at his brother’s side in moments, forehead to Kix’s temple.  “It’s alright, it’s okay.  You aren’t going to see them die anymore.  That’s a good thing, come on, look at me.”

 

Kix took a steadying breath and scrubbed his hands over his face, glancing at Jesse.  Like always, Jesse was there, trying to take care of _him_ , even when it was probably a special kind of hell trying to look after a medic.  Jesse graced him with a proud smile for his trouble, and Kix couldn’t help but keep a similar smile off his face.

 

“There you go, much better,” Jesse affirmed, then there was a cough from the doorway, and they jumped apart. 

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Admiral Kersos said, and Kix tried to look unperturbed at the intrusion.  Jesse shifted, partially situating himself between Kix and the Admiral, and the whole galaxy if it came to that, but Kix put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. 

 

“Not to be rude, sir, but what are you doing here?” Kix asked.  “I mean… is there something you needed?”

 

“Me?  No, but all the Admirals have been told about your freedom, and well, you should tell me if this is overstepping my bounds, but I still have some friends at the medical university on Corellia.  If you want, I could sponsor you.  You’re already better than most accredited doctors anyway, and they have one of the best genetics labs in the galaxy.  We’ve talked about some of the genetic problems the _vod’e_ have, and you could be put into a position to help them,” Kersos said, and Kix could only stare at the man, not sure how to even begin thinking about that information on top of everything else.  _Freedom, medical school, being a full doctor, fixing his brothers…_

 

“I… sir…” Kix began, but Kersos waved his hands to forestall Kix.

 

“Not ‘sir’, not anymore.  I’m not your superior, Kix.  I’m… well, I’d be your sponsor, so no ‘sirs,’ if you want to do it, that is.”  Kersos’s expression was one Kix couldn’t quite figure out, hopeful and helpful, but with a touch something sad around the edges.  Kix looked to Jesse, and Jesse nodded, the answer in his eyes before Kix could ask the question.

 

“I think… I think I’ll take that offer, sir, Erel,” Kix said, and he felt like something had been lifted off him, a weight that he had carried for so long he had forgotten it was there.

 

“Well, then, son,” Kersos said, clapping a hand to Kix’s shoulder, and Kix, for the first time in his life, felt like the term _son_ meant something to him.  He wondered if this was what parents did for their children, and he recalled the one time Kersos had spoken of the family he had lost.  Then Kix knew, Kersos had said the words in his heart, _ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad_ —I know your name as my child—even if he didn’t know Mando’a, his heart knew words like that, and this offer of sponsorship was how he said them.

 

Kix blinked back tears as a jolt of understanding passed between the two men, one of them a father again, and the other, perhaps, a son.

 

“And I’m going with.  Someone’s got to look after him while he’s studying,” Jesse said brightly, and Kix couldn’t argue that point.

 

* * *

 

Fives had once thought he wanted to be just like Rex, then he had wanted to prove himself to his Captain.  After losing Tup, however, everything had gone wrong.  He had been so angry, and he had only gotten angrier while he had been on the run with Barriss.  But then he had lost Echo.  Again.

 

And Rex had been there. 

 

Rex had not left him to his own pain and anger, and now he followed his brother as he organized the move to Tython.  All the surviving _vod’e_ were staging at and around Coruscant, and with three million men and boys to organize, Rex had a lot to do.  So Fives was there, keeping track of ships at their disposal, making sure cadets had a trooper to look after them in their squads, and helping filter all the information that came at them.

“We’re going to need more supplies,” Rex said, handing another datapad to Fives.  They walked through one of the transport ships that waited in orbit for the Jedi to leave.  Fives had, of course, paid attention to how the public was taking the whole change.  They seemed to be fine with the Jedi removing themselves from public life, and with taking the _vod’e_ with them.  Though there were some whispers about the Jedi still having a private army at their disposal, and other fringe groups that complained about the thread the _vod’e_ continued to pose to the promise of galactic stability and human genetic diversity. 

 

Fives had noted it all, where it came from, who was scared the loudest, and he had to find someone to help counter all that propaganda.  Maybe the other former ARCs could work something, maybe he could get Ekria to find out who the anonymous commenters were.  Dig up dirt on them, protect them on their flanks.

 

Just because the war was over, didn’t mean hostilities stopped, Fives was learning.

 

“Yes, sir,” Fives said reflexively.  Then he grimaced.  “I mean, Rex.  _Vod_.  Ah, this is… I don’t know.”

 

“Not easy,” Rex supplied, turning tired eyes to Fives.  “I know.”

 

“But I’m here, Rex.  I… took me a while to come back home, but I’m home.  With my brothers,” Fives said, and he felt like a weight had been taken off of him, like his chest was no longer being crushed in a vise.  He was where he belonged, helping his brothers, the men Echo had given his life for.

 

Fives could think of no tribute more fitting than that.

 

* * *

 

 

Bly wondered if he was being too sentimental about all this.  He knew his past self, that young man at the start of the war who had only cared for strategy and tactics and looking after his men would despair of him now.  Regulations broken left, right and center, but then, no battle plan ever lasted first contact with the enemy. 

 

No life outlook ever lasted first contact with love.

 

Aayla and Kit weren’t in trouble, at least not as far as the Council was concerned.  Kit even retained his seat, though the Council itself was much diminished.  The Jedi had bigger concerns than flouting thousand-year-old traditions in the middle of relocating the Order and the _vod’e_ together, while hundreds of refugee requests had begun to pour in.  Apparently, even in spite of the fear of Jedi and _vod’e_ that some people felt, others saw Tython as the safest option for relocation if they were unable to return to their home planets.  Bly had heard as much from Kit, and Bly could just see Rex getting roped into that as well.

 

But that wasn’t what Bly was worried about right now.  He didn’t know how Aayla or Kit would respond, but there was no way to know for sure save ask.  Hence why he sat on the couch in Aayla’s rooms, waiting for his two Jedi to return from another meeting. 

 

He was _nervous_.  Which was ridiculous, he was a soldier.  He shouldn’t get nervous about this.

 

Then the door opened, and he saw them.  Aayla he had grown to respect and admire so much, coming to love her as easy as breathing.  Kit had required a little mental rearranging, but the other man’s easy smile and quick wit combined with a deep well of feeling that Bly had come to value for its own sake.  And he found that he loved Kit, too.

 

Stranger things had happened, but not more welcome ones, at least not to Bly.

 

Aayla raised a brow at him, and Kit graced him with a smile.  They could probably both sense his nerves, which was fine.  It made it easier, that they could both figure out what was going on in his head sometimes.  Aayla sat next to him, her blue hand slipping into his, and Kit sat on the table across from him, green hand taking his free one.  He squeezed both their hands, and what a wonder it was for a _vod’e_ to be so cared for.

 

“There’s words, words I want to say, that you don’t have to say back, but… I don’t know what’s going to happen.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep following you, Aayla, or what’s in store for Kit.  But there’s one thing I know, one thing that’s true,” he said, and took a breath, looking in Kit’s all black eyes, and then Aayla’s hazel.  “ _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome_.”

 

Neither of them moved for a moment, but then Kit leaned forward, touching his forehead to Bly’s.  Bly’s shoulders relaxed, and then he realized he had been tensing them.  Aayla stroked his hair with her hand.  They both liked to touch his hair, neither of their species having any at all, and he couldn’t fault that he liked it when they did that.

 

“That’s only half the vow, Bly,” Aayla said.  Bly shrugged.

 

“It’s the part that matters.  Together or apart, we’re one.  Aren’t we?” he asked.

 

“Yes, yes we are,” Aayla said, pressing her lips to his temple, and Kit kissed his mouth.

 

“The distance will never matter Bly, not to me,” Kit told him, and Bly smiled.  There were a million operational problems to deal with, logistical concerns, but right here and now was something new.  Something Bly could have never have imagined happening when he was a cadet, when he was going through command training, when he was being pushed beyond his limits by the Mando mercs who had fed them all just enough culture to fill in the gaps in their heads.  When he had first heard the vow, it hadn’t made sense, it had seemed empty, without meaning.

 

But now, now he understood it.  What it meant, the promise it held.

 

* * *

 

Appo had left that meeting and felt lost.  Many of the Commanders had lost their Jedi, but none in such a spectacular fashion as he had lost Skywalker.  There had been no stopping it, no preventing it, no saving him.  The man had been a storm in his own right, a chaotic, shifting thing, and Appo had struggled to keep up at first.  Near the end, Appo had thought they had reached a good equilibrium, but in the end, it wasn’t enough.

 

Maybe it never would have been.

 

But there was one last service he could perform for the man.

 

Slipping into Skywalker’s quarters on the _Resolute_ , he triggered the secret compartment the man had shown him and removed the neotikons he had found on Taris.  With those precious artefacts in hand, he returned to the Jedi Temple, no one asking questions of him because of his Commander status, and he found his way to the Archives. 

 

Uncertain, he decided he would rather not have to try to explain things he didn’t understand, he deposited the noetikons in a small box on one of the desks and wrote a brief note as to what they were, as far as he could understand them.

 

Someone would find them as the Archives were relocated to their new home, and they would be preserved.  Perhaps that would be enough, to make sure the knowledge that Skywalker had found would not be lost.  Again.

 

Then Appo knew what he could do, how he could find a place, and he left the Temple, making his way to the barracks that housed the cadets.  The youngest of his brothers would need help.  Like him when he first meet Skywalker, the galaxy would feel bigger and more threatening than they were actually prepared for, and he knew what it was to try to find a place when there didn’t seem to be one for you at all.

 

If there was any people without a place, it was them, and the cadets, no, the boys, had no way to know how to handle it.

 

Appo thought he might be able to help them figure it out.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?!” Tai’s shrill voice made Wolffe wince, and he glanced over as _jetti’ika_ , who was glaring up at Hook.  The boy, because Wolffe couldn’t think of a trooper that was barely to deployment age as anything but a boy, glared right back, a box in his hands.

 

“ _Buir_ said you needed to be packed an hour ago, and you were dragging your feet.  So I’m helping,” Hook explained.

 

“This is _not_ helping,” Tai said, grabbing the box and trying to wrench it out of Hook’s hands, but Hook was as strong as any _vod’e_ , even if he wasn’t battle-tested, and Tai had never been good at drawing on the Force to fuel her own physical abilities.

 

“Well, it still needs to be done,” Hook countered, and Wolffe narrowed his eyes at them.  He didn’t say anything, because he wasn’t sure he cared enough to, but something about the whole situation nagged at the back of his mind.  It was the soft laugh from General Tii that made him realize what he was witnessing.

 

“Oh no, no, I am not dealing with that,” he grumbled to himself, and was about to go break them up, because there was no way in all the nine hells of Corellia he was going to deal with some kind of weird repeat of Rex and Tano on his watch.  Then General Tii held him back with a gentle but firm hand on his arm.  He looked at her, those wise violet eyes amused, actually amused at the two idiots in front of them.

 

“Not all things are as they seem, Wolffe.  I do believe they are actually just being the children they are, instead of the soldiers they were made to be.  Should we not let them have silly moments, now that such things are possible again?” she asked him, and something about that was so similar to how General Plo would have spoken, the calm surety in her voice, the unfailing directness of her gaze, and the sense of _rightness_ and _care_ that surrounded her.

 

He had not known exactly what to expect, following Tai after General Tii took her on, the Jedi involvement in _vod’e_ training well and truly before his time, but the Togruta Jedi had proven to be, not a replacement for General Plo, but someone who he could respect just as much.

 

In response to her question, however, he grunted, and eyed the pair of young people in the other room.

 

“We’ll see,” he said, putting more agitation in his voice than he actually felt.  Just because they were about to start living some kind of settled life, didn’t mean he was about to go soft.  There was only so much change a man could take, after all.

 

* * *

 

“You do not wish to join your brothers?” General Kenobi, no Master Kenobi, no _Ben_ , asked him.  Cody shook his head, joining Ben at the terminal in the Archives.  He was holding something strange, two geometric items that had no immediate, obvious use.  Still, the other man pocketed them and looked at Cody with a curious expression on his face.

 

“They’re having fun, and they always have more fun when us Commanders aren’t around,” Cody explained, resting his arms on the counter, standing next to the man who had become, in many ways, possibly one of his best friends.

 

“Hm, much like Padawans in that respect,” Ben said thoughtfully.  They lapsed into silence, and Cody wasn’t sure what to say.  Life was changing fast underneath their feet, and Cody was trying to keep up.  All the Commanders had their tasks, but Rex had emerged as someone who could keep it all in his head, what needed doing and how to keep ahead of the madness of organizing everything and working with Jedi who still weren’t used to sharing orders. 

 

Probably a learned skill, that, having worked with Skywalker and Tano.  Then, as Cody thought of the two younger Jedi, both people whom Ben cared for deeply and one of them lost to him, Cody laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder.

 

“Just wanted you to know, sir, sorry that’s a habit.  Ben.  I wanted to let you know I’m not going anywhere.  If you need backup, you can always call on me,” Cody offered, and he was gratified to see a flicker of thankfulness on Ben’s face, and in those warm blue eyes. 

 

“My dear Cody, your offer means more than you can know, right now, but I would not keep you from where you want to be.  The Order lost many teachers in the war, and in the wake of Palpatine’s final moments.  Thus, I have decided to take up my duties as a teacher,” Ben said, then huffed with dry amusement.  “Finally.”

 

“Made the offer, Ben, because where you are is where I want to be.  Pretty simple, when you get down it,” Cody said, for once not looking away, not retreating from what he had decided, from what he felt.  And he thought, maybe, Ben might understand what he meant but didn’t know how to say.  At least not yet.

 

Ben’s slow smile of acceptance, of understanding, and seeing the ache recede in the other man’s eyes, was all Cody needed to know he’d made the right choice.

 

“I do not deserve you, Cody.  I truly do not,” Ben told him, voice choking from too much emotion, because Cody knew how much Ben was hurting right now, how much he hurt and didn’t let it show because he was still a Jedi to his bones and there was work to do.

 

“Not about deserving, Ben, just about what is,” Cody replied, feeling not as wise as those words made him sound, but they were the only words he could say.  When Ben touched his forehead to his, it was not a promise or a certainty, but whatever would happen, that they cared for each other, however that manifested, would not be in doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a:  
> Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome = We are one when together, we are one when parted; half of the Mandalorian marriage vow.
> 
> Further notes: Though I didn't have the space for it, Shaak Ti gets a little extra happy ending. She eventually finds her Corellian Intel agent (Dani, from several fics ago, the inside job on Kamino, if you recall) again. Shaak and Dani see each other off and on and Tai has two moms now. (Dani being an OC of B_Radley's and the Shaak/Dani ship is Strong.)
> 
> As for Obi-Wan and Cody, that's up to you, reader. I lean towards yes, but I'm leaving it open ended on purpose.


	4. Are Unified in Relation to One Another

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Ahsoka told him, and Obi-Wan knew that this had been coming.  The Council had been trying to understand what had happened to her, and through her, what had happened to Anakin, but everything kept going in circles.  Then their investigations were derailed by the Jedi and all the _vod’e_ leaving Coruscant for their new home.

 

“You will not even accompany us to Tython?” Obi-Wan asked, knowing that she would not, but having to ask it all the same.  He had hoped that because of her connection to the _vod’e_ , to the other Jedi her age, and perhaps in particular to Commander Rex, Ahsoka would be able to find some kind of peace with losing Anakin as they had.

 

She had not.

 

Perhaps Padme giving away the twins—to whom Obi-Wan had an idea, the list of who Padme would trust with her babies was rather short—had also pushed Ahsoka to this.  The young Jedi had vowed to watch over the twins, to take them to her heart, and now she was bereft of the last vestiges of her Master, though Anakin had been more a brother to her than the distant title of Master would imply.  Ahsoka’s anger at Padme was hot and real, and Padme’s choice had severed something between the two women, and Obi-Wan was not sure if they would ever get it back. 

 

For his part, Obi-Wan had found his own acceptance of Padme’s choice, understanding how the name _Skywalker_ would be dangerous in and of itself, and certainly anyone who paid attention could have deduced the identity of the father of the twins even if Padme had kept her silence on the matter.

 

Or, perhaps, it was whatever she had become that spurred Ahsoka on.  Obi-Wan remembered what had happened on Mortis, on the planet that was there but not, a strange nexus in the Force.  Ahsoka might very well have been saved by the last of the Daughter’s life energy, but a being such as the Daughter might have been able to persist inside of Ahsoka.  He had told her all he could remember, in an effort to prevent her from taking her own journey, but that had apparently been futile, his answers not satisfying enough to forestall her.

 

“No, I… I need to go.  I need to find out what’s inside me, in my head here with me.  Maybe you’re right, and this Daughter-thing is part of me now, only showing up at need, but maybe not.  What if she’s still… around?” Ahsoka asked, grimacing at her inability to better articulate what she was trying to convey.  Then she shook her head, dismissing her down doubts and forging on ahead, so like Anakin in that.  “I just didn’t want to leave without telling you.”

 

“Then you have my thanks, Ahsoka.  I… I was not always the Master Anakin needed me to be, and perhaps I could have done more for you as well.  However, I found these today, in the Archives, and they have something of Anakin about them.  I have not opened them, but perhaps… perhaps you would wish to have them?” he asked, holding out the strange holocrons he had found.  There was no record of them in the Archives, though that was not something that surprised him anymore, but he thought it might be time to learn to let go sooner rather than later.  That, and Ahsoka might need whatever wisdom they held, as they had been in Anakin’s posession, wherever she was going, and to try to understand whatever she found.

 

She took the holocrons from his hands, turning them over in her burnt-orange fingers, her blue eyes examining them closely before returning her gaze to his.

 

“I will miss you, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan admitted freely, and Ahsoka blinked at him in surprise, then she flung her arms around his neck, like she had when she was younger, and smaller.  Now she was a woman grown, nearly as tall as Anakin had been if you counted her montrals, and full of too much love to hold herself back from it.  But it was not his life, and he knew too well the folly of trying to impose his ideals on another.  Now.  Perhaps too late for Anakin, but not for her, and other who would follow her.

 

“I’m gonna miss you too, old man,” she said, squeezing him tightly once more before letting him go.  Then she pulled away, and in her eyes was knowledge and wisdom she was too young to have, but she wore it well, and he was so proud of her.  All his life, he would regret that Anakin could not see her like this, could not see how well he had done by her, for all the ups and downs, he could see the marks of Anakin’s training, of his confidence in her, his care for her, and he felt privileged to have been some small part of that growth. 

 

“May the Force be with you, Ahsoka,” he said softly.

 

“Always,” she replied, and for a moment neither of them moved, they two who were among those who loved Anakin best, and would always feel the lack, the ragged bond they both had still drifting in their mental landscapes, a scar he was learning to live with, and one he hoped she could, too.

 

* * *

 

Rex felt cold replace Ahsoka as she got up out of the bed.  It was the narrow bunk in his quarters, because she had already cleared her things out of the Temple and hadn’t been able to bring herself to go back.  All she had was a small over the shoulder duffel that fit everything she wanted to bring, and it sat in the corner of his room, though it wouldn’t for much longer.

 

_“You’re not going to Tython,” he had said, knowing the answer to the question already, and she had shaken her head, hand over his heart.  Her eyes didn’t hold hope or ire or anything so wild as that, just acceptance in eyes as blue and deep as the Kaminoan ocean.  She had been talking about leaving since the war had been declared over, and it had not been a giant leap to know she was going through it with it finally._

_“And you are,” she had replied, and he had nodded.  His brothers needed him, and he couldn’t abandon them, not now.  Even his fellow Commanders turned to him now, because he had stepped up and taken charge, and now, now he had the lives of three million men and boys on his shoulders.  It was not something he could walk away from, nor would she ask it of him, anymore than he would ask that she stay and leave off her own search._

_“But I’m not leaving just yet,” she had said, and damning himself for an idiot, for giving in when it would have been better to not, he had kissed her, he had held her close, for what might be the last time._

In the dark of his room, he kept his eyes closed as he listened to her get dressed, pulling on her clothes by feel alone.  Then she fell silent, and he wondered if she was looking at him, a final glance before she was on her way.  Unwilling to know for sure, he kept his breathing even, though she could likely sense that he was awake. 

 

Better this way, he thought, to not try to say good-bye.  _Let her leave, let her go,_ he told himself, _she was never yours to keep._   That he got to be with her, for however brief a time, would be good enough for him.

 

With a sigh, she picked up her duffel and slunk out of the room, and Rex finally opened his eyes, the dawn light filtering in through his window, the window she had snuck through when she needed to talk to him, and he was glad they would be leaving this planet.  Too many memories that he didn’t care to revisit on a daily basis.

 

Regardless, he hoped she found what she was looking for.

 

And maybe, he could find something too, for himself.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t feel real, to Ahsoka, sitting in the cockpit of the little system hopper she had finagled from the Jedi Order.  Mace and the rest of the Council had given their tacit permission for her to investigate the mysteries around what had happened to Anakin, and whatever she was.  Obi-Wan had told her what he remembered of Mortis, but she thought that couldn’t be it.

 

She had to find out.

 

She had to know.

 

And it meant leaving the people she had once thought she never would.

 

Obi-Wan, staying to teach younglings.

 

Padme, a complicating parting there, because she was still angry with the woman for giving up her babies, _Anakin’s babies_ , but she still loved Padme.

 

She didn’t seem able to stop.

 

Her _vod’e_ , her brothers, men she loved without question, none of whom could follow where she was going.

 

Ekria, Tai, Zonder, Shaak Tii, all finding ways to move through their losses, while she only wanted to find answers.  Thinking of them, her mind turned to Master Plo, her Finder, whose loss she had not even been able to feel, so far away, and Anakin’s loss so close to hand.  She wondered what Master Plo would have told her, if he would have told her to follow her instincts or try to leave what was past behind her.

 

Barriss, someone she had loved, and had finally started to forgive, but she couldn’t parse that out any better.

 

And then there was Rex.

 

The rock in her mental landscape, as enduring as the sea, as solid as a mountain, a man who had put his heart in her hands, and she had taken it for a time.  But she knew there was no giving back something freely given.

 

She hoped he found a life for himself on Tython, that he found happiness, because while the questions burned in her mind, she wasn’t sure that she could.  Something in her drove her on, spurred her away from safety and surety and into the unknown, because somewhere out there, an answer waited for her to find.

 

Setting in a course, a course that would take her to the closest, ancient Jedi Temple from millennia a go, she jumped into hyperspace.  Away from Coruscant, away from the Jedi, from the _vod’e_ , and from the man she had given her own heart to.

 

Because that was the price of the path she had chosen, and she paid it.

 

* * *

  **One Year After the Jedi left for Tython**

* * *

 

 

“See you tomorrow, Rex!” the cadets said, breaking away as he walked up the hill to his home.  _His_ home.  That he had all to himself.  A year on Tython had seen a lot of changes come to the planet that had been left largely uninhabited for millennia.  Clearing land, some of the men had begun to farm, along with many of the refugees that had come to this place and its promise of safety, peace, and equality.  His own days were different now.  No more ship-board life with its routines, or battle with its chaos.  Instead, he went to meetings, which he had to admit, were their own special kind of hell, but he got to work with cadets, oversee their education, not combat training.

 

He had even met someone.

 

She had shown her interest early, but he had resisted, holding on to a hope that was long gone.  It had only been a few months, but he thought this might be a good thing, being with Hallie, trying to move on.  Then as he gained the top of the hill, he saw her sitting on the bench that Thorn had made.

 

“Hallie, what are you doing here?  Not that I’m complaining,” he said quickly.  It wasn’t unusual for _vod’e_ to have a relationship these days.  Many of the refugees were kindly disposed to the men who had fought and died for them, and many had lost partners, leaving them raising children on their own.  A massive group of men who, by and large at least, couldn’t produce children, seemed tailor made to solve the problem.

 

“I thought we should talk, Rex,” she said, sounding cautious.  She patted the bench, and he sat down beside her, watching her carefully.

 

“What about?” he asked, picking up on her wariness easily.  She grimaced in response to his question, and ran a hand through her brown hair.     

 

Hallie was a refugee, one of their leaders in the still fledging Tython Assembly.  Master Stass Allie currently Chaired the Assembly.  She had a fair hand, and when the refugees had shown up, she had worked to include them in planetary decisions as well.  Hallie was passionate, arguing for her people’s needs, and they had met in the Assembly, arguing over a land issue between his brothers and her refugees.  That had been six months ago.  It had taken another few months to get used to the idea being with someone besides Ahsoka, and in the back of his mind he wondered if she would be upset with him about this.

 

Even though she had left.

 

But he hadn’t followed her.

 

“I think… I think we should stop seeing each other, like this,” she said bluntly, breaking the flow of his thoughts, and he shifted his gaze, looking off into the distance.  Out there, where trees grew, and the mountains reared in the distance.  For half a second he thought he should be upset, angry and sad like how he had seen his brothers react so someone leaving them.  Instead he felt relieved.

 

“I know you were trying to move on, but… I don’t think you have.  And I… I like you, Rex, but I…” she tried to explain, her tone full of concern, of remorse, but Rex waved her to silence.

 

“It’s okay, Hallie,” he said, still not looking at her.  He leaned forward, his hands clasped together.  “Really, I get it.  You want something I can’t give.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing, tugging her coat around her shoulders.  He did look at her then, and shook his head. 

 

“So am I,” he replied, and he leaned back, letting her go past him and down the hill, out of his life. 

 

Like he had let Ahsoka go.

 

* * *

 

The drink burned on the way down, but Ahsoka didn’t mind.  She liked it.  It was as close as she could get to _nar’him_ without getting the real thing.  Lying back on the bed, she glanced at Lassa, the Pantoran pirate who had helped get her out of that last scrape down on whatever backwater moon she had tried to find answers on.

 

It had been the same thing for a year.  Find a Temple and investigate it only to find scraps, but nothing that she could piece together.  One place would give her a single image, a man in a black mask, while in another place she heard a voice that felt like it might have been familiar say, _you’re my only hope_.  They were echoes, but of what she did not know.  There was nothing to connect them, not as far as she could tell.  To add to her frustrations, the Daughter had not resurfaced, and the holocrons Obi-Wan had given her had remained silent.  The fact that they had been in Anakin’s possession had given her hope about being able to open them, thinking maybe they were his last words to her.  But if they were, they were locked up tight.  She knew something had pulled her away from Coruscant, had told her not to go to Tython, but she was no closer to finding Anakin or what had really happened to him than she had been a year ago.

 

Lassa smiled, smug and seductive at the same time, and Ahsoka rolled her eyes.  Sure, the pirate wasn’t bad to look at, but Ahsoka saw no reason to really get involved with anyone again.  At least not with her heart.  It was far too late to stay uninvolved in other ways.

 

“You know, Tano, you keep getting in these little problems, and I keep coming to your rescue.  I think you just wanted to see me,” Lassa drawled, stretching across the sheets, taking the glass from Ahsoka’s hand.  Ahsoka snorted.

 

“I missed your alcohol cabinet, more like,” Ahsoka countered, and she almost couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.  Somewhere in the last year, facing set backs and a lack of definitive information, her quest had lost its luster.  And her hope of answers about Anakin had diminished.

 

“Well, you’re welcome to it,” Lassa said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the liquor cabinet.  Ahsoka didn’t rise, however.  Instead she called on the Force and the glass returned to her hand.  She held it up to her eyes and stared at the liquid inside, as if she could find answers there.   Then Lassa sighed. 

 

“Look, it’s not my business,” Lassa began, and Ahsoka glanced at the pirate out the corner of her eye.

 

“No, it’s not,” Ahsoka told her, and the Pantoran shot her a dangerous look.  Jedi, Ahsoka might be, but Lassa was captain of the ship, and she had a loyal crew.  Rather than apologize, Ahsoka returned her gaze to the glass, letting it be.

 

“Never mind,” Lassa said, standing languorously, the bed clothes falling away from her naked body.  “Get some sleep, and we’ll drop you where you left your ship.  I got some captain things to do.”

 

“Lassa, I…” Ahsoka tried to say, setting the glass aside and feeling like she was an idiot.  This wasn’t her, she wasn’t someone who hurt people, who closed herself off.  But she felt lost, like what she was promised had failed to appear.  The option was to go back, metaphorical hat in hand, and admit that she had no better idea about what had happened to Anakin, what had happened to _her_ , than the Masters of the Order.

 

That her quest had been pointless.

 

“It’s alright.  But if my advice is worth anything to you, I’d say that you should let go of that burden you’re carrying around.  It’ll crush you if you let it,” Lassa said, and left.  Ahsoka almost got up to follow the pirate, but held back.  Because that was the first time she had thought of her quest as a burden.

 

Something that weighed at her, slowed her steps, drug her off course.

 

Something that she could, maybe, put down.

 

If she could let it go.

 

* * *

 

“Rex!” Kix said, catching his attention, and Rex smiled to see his brother, gone to Corellia for the past year.  They caught each other in a hug, and Rex looked over his former medic.

 

“They treating you alright on that planet?  You look like you’re doing well,” Rex said, happy to see his brother.

 

“I’m alright,” Kix said easily.

 

“Hey, what about me?” Jesse asked, catching up to his brothers, and Rex slung an arm around Jesse’s shoulders.  He had gotten that damned tattoo removed, thankfully, though he had gotten something else, the 332nd’s symbol on his neck.  Seeing those markings again, Rex couldn’t help how his gaze lingered on them a bit too long, but he shook his head, as if to shake off that old feeling that crept up through his chest. 

 

“What about you?  Still not sure why Kix keeps you around,” Rex teased, which made Jesse roll his eyes.

 

“You really don’t want the answer to that, _vod_ ,” Jesse countered, and Rex ignored that comment.  Instead, he picked up one of their bags and they started walking to one of the spaceport’s exits. 

 

“How long are you here?  Thought that you wouldn’t be done for a while, learning to be a doctor,” Rex said as they headed to central processing.  Since Jessie and Kix had never come to Tython in the first place, they’d either have to take a guest suite or apply for standard housing.

 

“It’s some sort of holiday period of Corellia.  Normally I stay on planet, but Erel practically pushed us on to the ship,” Kix explained.

 

“He also bought us the tickets and told me to drag Kix away from his books no matter what,” Jesse said, and Rex led them to the short-stay housing.  With his credentials, they got a room easily.  “So I’m under orders, you see.  Very important.”  The easy back and forth banter reminded Rex of old times.  He loved the brothers he worked with, but even Fives had gone off and started his own projects, former ARC troopers working to counter the anti-clone propaganda that had been gaining ground in the wider galaxy.  Jesse and Kix were the only old hands from the 332nd who he could talk to without having to think about what he was saying.  He had missed them, and not realized how much until just now.

 

“By the way, where’s Ahsoka?  We got a gift for her,” Kix said, digging through one of his bags, looking for some package.  That was when Rex stopped in his tracks.  He shouldn’t react this strongly, still, when someone talked about her.  He shouldn’t.  But he did.

 

“She never came here.  Left Coruscant just before the relocation.  Had to look for something, she said,” he said, keeping his voice as flat as possible.  Jesse and Kix exchanged a look, then they both turned back to him, their faces pictures of sympathy.  “Don’t give me those looks.  I never would stand in her way.  Never.”

 

“No one said you’d keep her from going, but you didn’t think about chasing after her?” Jesse asked.  Rex breathed out sharply.

 

“Stayed.  Our brothers needed me.  It was… it was a chaotic time,” Rex said, his voice sounding thin and tired to his own ears.  How many times had he told himself that?  That he had to stay?  That he couldn’t go?  Not even to see her just once?

 

“Doesn’t look so chaotic to me, not right now,” Kix said, looking out the window of the small set of rooms they had been assigned.  Rex kept his expression neutral, though he knew it was pointless.  These two had seen up close the dance he and Ahsoka had gone through, had seen her exit his rooms when the planetary alarm had sounded a year ago, and they knew even know if she gave the order he’d follow through.

 

But she hadn’t given him the order to follow her.  Not that time.

 

Maybe, because she didn’t want him to follow on an order.

 

So that just left one question, a question that he had helped his brothers ask and answer, but one he had never asked himself.  Not really.  It was such a simple question, but had profound implications.  What, really, did _he_ want?

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka knelt on the cold, uneven stone.  Water dripped from somewhere in the cave, but it was part of the cave, the background noise and feel of the place that was part of the whole of where she was.  Eyes closed, she held her hands over the only possessions that mattered to her: her sabers and those two holocrons Obi-Wan had given her. 

 

It had taken her so long to come to this place, to follow the trail of images and voices and feelings to this final location, the shape of what might have been slowly coming together in her mind.  That was what the echoes were, she had realized, echoes of a future that had never happened.  But there was still one more thing to do.  She reached out and the Force flowed through her, and between her and her sabers, she felt that same sense of dissonance, a lack of alignment.  This was not her first attempt to reattune her sabers, but until now, no place had felt right.  Not as this place did.

 

Perhaps, she had not known where she stood, what she wanted, or who she wanted to be, after the war was over.  After the war that had defined her young life was no more, after her Master and her Finder and so many had died.  Maybe, it had never been about finding out _what_ , but instead trying to come to grips with who she could be.

 

Or, more likely, it was a little bit of everything. 

 

Missing Anakin, angry at Padme, wishing she knew where the twins were, unable to stop caring for them both, leaving the Jedi behind to search for answers that might not even be out there, having lost so much, and almost having lost herself in the war, she was not sure what she could be if she were not a fighter.

 

The song of the kyber changed, no longer a high call of exultation and fierce joy, but instead a more mellow song, a song that knew loss and violation, a song of sorrow that nevertheless _hoped_.  Then she heard something shift, like rock scaping against rock, and she opened her eyes to see the holocrons hovering, though she was not focusing on them.  Shifting, they opened, and two human projections appeared.  One man, one woman, and Ahsoka was so startled she couldn’t speak.  A full year, and she had been trying to open them, and now, here they were, opening.

 

“You must be Ahsoka,” the woman said, her smile a sympathetic one.

 

“Your Master spoke of you a great deal.  He loved you, very much,” the man said, and Ahsoka’s throat felt thick with too much emotion. 

 

“Why?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.  “Why didn’t these open until now?  Who are you?  What are you?  What happened to him?  What happened to _me_?”

 

“You had to see the shape of what might have been, to know what might yet still come.  Time is not set, not solid, yet what could have been lingers in places strongly connected to the Force,” the woman said. 

 

“All is not over and gone, nothing ever is, what lingers and what remains is the ground for the future,” the man told her.  She shook her head, trying to put together what she had seen, but not sure what to make of it.

 

“I saw… death… so much death, pain, hate, anger, fear… but I also saw love.  I saw him fall, and I saw him come back,” she told them, the other questions slipping away in the face of what she had seen, what she had finally learned to let herself see in the other Temples.  “So… what now?  What do I do with these?”

 

“With us, you mean?” the man asked, grinning, one eyebrow raised in dry amusement.  Then he shrugged.  “Do with our noetikons as you will, perhaps the Jedi in this time will listen to us, perhaps they will not.  Our time is over and done.”

 

“Now is your time, and the now is whatever you choose to make of it, Ahsoka Tano.  I thought you would have learned that already,” the woman told her, sardonic expression flickering across her features before the holocrons, the noetikons, whatever they were closed up and the projections were gone.  Then she took up her sabers, the kyber singing softly in her montrals, a song she had never heard before but knew all the same, knew in her bones.

 

Turning them on, they flared to life, a brilliant, unstained white.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan waited outside the cave.  Asajj had come to him with the information: Ahsoka had returned.  But she had not come to the Temple.  Instead, her ship had landed by this cave, an old place on an old planet.  So he had waited.  Whatever she had been looking for had finally led her home, and he wished to know what she had found.  More, he wished to see _her._

 

Twilight dusk surrounded him, and just as he thought he might have to make camp, she emerged, like a ghost, something about her seemed to glow for a moment before the fading sunlight caught her burnt-orange skin and white and blue montrals.  She still wore pieces of armor and high boots, but she had grown, likely now at her full height, and had filled out even more.  Obi-Wan’s heart leapt to see her, his second Padawan in all but name, all grown up now.

 

Without hesitation, he hugged her, and she hugged him back, holding him tight.

 

“Sorry, I… I had to come to the cave first, it was important,” she explained, and he shook his head.

 

“Do not be sorry, Ahsoka.  Do not ever be sorry for following your heart.  It was your heart that saved us that day, as much as anything else, I believe,” Obi-Wan said, sincerity threaded through his voice.

 

“And that’s enough for you?” she asked, eyeing him curiously. 

 

“It is,” he replied, and he could see the difference in her.  When Ahsoka had left Coruscant, she had been fueled by what she had lost, and all the answers she didn’t have.  The fierce young woman she had been had not gone away, but been tempered by disappointment, by failure when she had been so sure she could find the answers.  But she was not made less for it.  “And I am proud of you, Ahsoka.  I know he would be proud of you, too.”

 

“Thank you, and for what’s its worth, I think he’d be happy for you.  You seem to be doing alright, here at the new Temple,” she said, that old teasing grin on her face and that light in her eyes, when she threw cheek around like there was no end to it.

 

He laughed.

 

“I am that, Ahsoka, I am that.  We all are, though… some not as well as others.  You have been missed,” he said gently, and she caught something there, in the way he said it.  She groaned, her head falling forward in mock despair.

 

“You _knew_?” she asked.  “How?”

 

“Cody,” he answered simply.  “He was grumbling about something, I asked him about it, ended up getting the whole story.  Turns out your Rex was very, hm, difficult for a time after you left.”

 

“He’s not _my_ anything anymore.  Pretty sure they’re all free now,” she retorted, hiding behind that tendency to quip, just like her Master when it suited him.

 

“Someone can be yours if they decide to be,” he countered, and she huffed.  “Though he is no longer on the planet.”

 

“What?!” she cried, and he had a small modicum of satisfaction at seeing her shock.  He probably should not, but he still he smiled and stroked his beard.

 

“He left, perhaps a month ago.  I believe he went looking for you.”  He watched her process that information, and he was gratified to see her lips twist in a slow, pleased smile.  “Of course, there is one small matter to attend to before you go, if you wish.”

 

“Oh, what’s that?  I’d hate to leave anything unfinished,” she drawled.

 

“The matter of your Knighting.  The Council determined that if you ever came back to us,” he began to say, but she held up her hands, forestalling him.

 

“You know, Obi-Wan, I spent so long only wanting to be a full Jedi Knight, and after everything… I think I decided I like being myself.  I’m a Knight-Errant, and I’ll find my own way,” she told him, passing him by in the darkening evening, and he watched her go, head held high.  Once more, he saw something flicker across her form, a light, and he knew it wasn’t a trick of his eyes, but something else like the spread of wide wings.  Something that she carried with her, that was of her, or perhaps only augmented what was already there.

 

“Oh, by the way,” she called out, turning around and walking backwards but still away from him.  “You might want those holocrons I left in there.  Save me the trouble of taking them back to the Temple before I go, would you?”

 

She did not wait for his reply, but instead trotted away.  Whatever she was, Ahsoka Tano had stopped running after the past.

 

* * *

 

Rex sat in one of the more dilapidated cantinas he had ever seen.  Not that he had really seen many, or least he hadn’t until he’d started to track down Ahsoka.  She hadn’t exactly filed any flight plans, so he’d had to pick up her trail, with a little help from Fives and Jarek.  Now he was on Anthan 14 in the Outer Rim, trying to figure out if he was chasing someone who really didn’t want to be found.

 

Then he felt someone sidle up beside him at the bar, and he heard a voice say, “What’s a trooper doing in a place like this?”

 

It was like electricity, hearing that voice again.

 

Turning on the likely dirty barstool, he looked up, and like a vision, there she was.  Taller, she had filled out, and her montrals and lekku were long now.  Her facial markings had also shifted, but it was still her in those impossibly blue eyes.

 

“Ahsoka,” he breathed, almost unable to believe what he was seeing.

 

“Rex,” she replied, voice soft, and his heart leapt in his chest.  Then reality reasserted itself.

 

“Where have you _been_?” he asked.  She slid onto the stool next to him, and for a moment she looked like she was going to order a drink but then thought better of it.

 

“I went to Tython, actually.  The trail led me back there.  I had hoped to find you there, too, but I was told you’d left,” she said, watching him, eyes searching his face as if she were seeing all the changes a year had made. 

 

“Went looking for you, but I guess I didn’t do too good a job of it if you found me first,” he said cautiously, drumming his fingers on the bar.  She placed her hand next to his, but not touching, burnt-orange and dark tan, hands that had killed and saved, hands that had touched and held. 

 

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, tilting her head.

 

“Stars, yes,” he said, and she smiled.

 

* * *

 

They sat on a cliff just outside the dusty town, feet dangling over the edge into the empty air.  They had walked in silence, side-by-side under the starlight, like they had on another dusty moon over a year ago.  Then they had been falling toward each other, locked in a mutual kind of orbit, so that it almost seemed inevitable by the end.  There was nothing inevitable about right now.  She had chosen to open her mind to what the Force was telling her, and had let it guide her back to Tython.  He had taken the chance on her and left the planet, and his brothers, to find her.

 

This time, maybe, they could choose each other.

 

“I missed you,” he told her, looking into the distance.

 

“I missed you, too,” she said, and in saying it hit her how much she had missed him.  His steady presence, his quiet, but underneath that his strength and that well of feeling that seemed bottomless.

 

“Did you find what you were look for?” he asked, unaware of what ran through her mind in that moment.  When he turned his head to look at her, he was taken aback by the soft expression on her face.

 

“I found enough for now,” she replied, hand touching the hilts of her sabers, the song that had been hers along carried inside of them.

 

“Hm, right, I know better than to ask,” he drawled, glancing away, as though turning something over in his mind.  Then he looked at her directly, golden eyes bright in the starlight.  “What happened, everything that happened, and looking back, there’s only one thing I regret.”

 

“What’s that?” she asked in a whisper, the moment fragile and delicate, and she did not want to shatter it.

 

“I never told you that I loved you,” he said, then took a breath and pressed on.  “And you should know that.  And… I love you, still.  Don’t know when it went from friendship to more than that, but it did, and… I love you Ahsoka, and whatever that means for you and me, well, I’d like to find that out.  That’s… what’s why I am here.  To find out.”

 

“Oh, Rex, I…” she started to say, and he took that for her answer.  Jaw clenched, he stood abruptly, about to stalk away.  Before he walked away from her, like how she had walked away from him, she reached up and touched his hand.  He looked down at her, confusion and hurt in his eyes, tension in the line of her shoulders.

 

Her stuttering reply was not a lack of love, she knew that.  It was the fact that they had never, in all the time they had spent together, as they had fallen towards each other, never had they _said_ it.  _I care about you_ , or _you mean so much to me_ , but never the word love, never aloud.  She had felt it in her chest, in her belly, fluttering and light, or searing and hot.  She had seen in his eyes, felt it in his touch.  But never had those words passed either of their lips.

 

Here and now, however, he had leapt, he had taken the first jump into the unknown, had taken the risk.  As she had jumped, over two years ago, out of that pipe, to save herself, knowing the truth in her heart.  And he had followed her, trusted her.  Now, now he had the truth in his heart, and she trusted him.  A leap of faith, love, and she braced herself.

 

“I love you,” she told him, tugging him down to her.  “ _Ai, maethor’en,_ I love you.”

 

He let himself be pulled back to the ground, his hands cupping her face, thumbs tracing across the markings on her cheeks.  His golden eyes searched her blue, and when he found it, when he saw it, he smiled, slow and fragile and new, yet known a thousand times over, that smile.  She felt a smile on her own lips as she leaned into his touch, her own hands reaching up to touch his face, to hold what she had thought she had left behind.  To hold what she had regained.

 

All because they had decided to leap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Togruti:  
> Nar’him = lit. fire water, Togruti alcohol, like a very smoky whiskey  
> Maehtor = warrior  
> ’En = my
> 
> Credit: Lassa Rhyame is in canon, and having her as someone Ahsoka ends up with (for a bit) is based on B_Radley's work. Which you should all read.
> 
> Thank you, thank you so much to everyone who kept with this massive thing. To everyone who picked it up. Been over a year and 300,000 words, and we are at the end. Not where everyone is perfectly happy or life is tied up with a bow, but where some people got to stick together a little longer and figure some things out together. Hard to ask for more than that.
> 
> Will be stepping away from Clone Wars for a while, but might return at some point. There are ideas, but the muses are focused elsewhere at the moment.
> 
> Much love to you all. 
> 
> Be kind to each other out there.


End file.
